


A Crush (The Bad Kind)

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2019 [15]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gen, Prompt: Pinned Down, wally's leg gets Fucked Up, yuck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: There are three things of which Wally West is absolutely certain:One: Conner has a stash of Hershey bars in his room that he thinks Wally doesn’t know about. The fool.Two: Broken legs hurt. Like, a lot. So fucking much. So much that Wally doesn’t even want to look because he knows if he sees bone poking through skin, (which is most likely the case if the blood coursing down to his ankle is any indication), he’s going to vomit all over the place.And, lucky number three: He has never been more screwed in his entire life.





	A Crush (The Bad Kind)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 16: Pinned Down

There are three things of which Wally West is absolutely certain:  
  
One: Conner has a stash of Hershey bars in his room that he thinks Wally doesn’t know about. The fool.  
  
Two: Broken legs hurt. Like, a lot. So fucking much. So much that Wally doesn’t even want to _ look _ because he knows if he sees bone poking through skin, (which is most likely the case if the blood coursing down to his ankle is any indication), he’s going to vomit all over the place.  
  
And, lucky number three: He has never been more screwed in his entire life.  
  
Because the great and noble Wally West—speed extraordinaire, resident hottie, and science prodigy all rolled into one magnificent specimen—is trapped. His leg is pinned down by this bitchy pillar that decided to fall on top of him like a total _ jerk _ when Bane yeeted him into it. Who, by the way, is also a total jerk. He left without sparing the injured Kid Flash a second glance, dusting off his hands and heading back for the real fight. Asshole.  
  
As it turns out, the stone pillars in Santa Prisca weigh a fuck ton. Now, if Conner were here, it wouldn’t be an issue. Even M’gann would be nifty in this situation, telekinesis and all. But alas, M’gann had a cheerleading thing this weekend, and Conner is...somewhere?  
  
To be honest, Wally has no idea where the rest of the team is. Probably off fighting bad guys like he should be doing right now, except he isn’t because he’s pinned down by a _ stupid _ pillar and his leg _ hurts _ and, yes, he _ could _ just alert the others with his radio, except it broke at around the same time his leg did. Wonderful.  
  
So now he’s trapped, he can’t find his team, and he _ can’t get out. _  
  
Wally sighs, head flopping back against the dirt. He pushes his goggles up his forehead with shaking fingers. His brain feels like it’s been soaked in bubblegum juice, which is probably a bad sign. Blood loss? Shock? Both?  
  
“Okay, Wallman, use your head,” he mutters to himself.  
  
He’d been about two thirds of a mile from the fight when he had gone off to catch Bane, who’d slipped under their radar. It’ll take a good twenty minutes for the others to finish up the rest of the lackeys, ten minutes for the roundup, and maybe five minutes after that for them to notice he’s missing. And that’s not even taking into account how long it will take for them to actually _ find _ him.  
  
Which means Wally’s on his own until either the blood loss catches up to him or something comes out of the jungle to feast on his flesh. Oh, joy.  
  
The sickest part? Wally could easily heal himself in the time it’ll take the team to remember he exists and come looking for him. Piece of cake. Except that the fucking hunk of concrete is _ still crushing his leg. _ So until he finds a way to deal with that huge problem, healing is a no-go.  
  
He’d already tried pulling himself out, but the second he moved it felt like his leg was being shoved through a furnace. From what he can tell, everything below his left knee is crushed. It’s quite honestly the worst pain Wally has ever been in.  
  
He thought blowing up his garage hurt? He thought having his arm snapped like a twig hurt? Wally would sacrifice every cent in his bank account for a broken arm right now. A broken arm would be a fucking _ spa day _ compared to this.  
  
It’s not just the pain; it’s the fact that he can’t _ move. _ Already the frustration has set in, and Wally wants to do something—move, squirm, run, _ anything. _ But he’s pinned down. He might as well be powerless with how much his speed could do for him now. No matter how much he wants to vibrate until he’s nothing more than clusters of molecules scattered in the wind, he can’t—  
  
Then an idea crashes on him like a meteorite, and Wally freezes. _ Barry can phase. _ If Barry were here, he’d simply vibrate his molecules through the pillar and free himself. After that it’s just a matter of waiting for his damaged bones and tissue to knit back together, and he’s home free.  
  
Except he’s not Barry. He’s Wally West, and Wally West is the slowest speedster in the history of speedsters. The last time he attempted phasing, he popped a blood vessel and had a killer migraine for the rest of the day.  
  
But does he have any other option? Aside from waiting to pass out and clinging to hope alone that his team will find him before it’s too late.  
  
So Wally starts slow. He lifts his fingers in front of his face and focuses on sending as much energy to his hand as possible, vibrating them at a frequency so high that they blur. It’s not enough, he knows. It won’t be enough.  
  
He winces at the mental image of phasing his hand partway through an object, only for it to stop working halfway through and chop his fingers off. _ Don’t get distracted, _ he thinks. _ This is your only chance. _  
  
It’s not long before lightning sparks around his fingertips, and he feels the energy surging through his arm. He channels all of his power into his hand, into the _ speed. _ Daring to hope, he presses his palm against a rock next to him, vibrating it as fast as he can, trying to push through the atoms.  
  
Nothing happens.  
  
Wally’s brow knits, and he tries harder, ignoring the blood dripping from his nostrils. Presses his hand flat against the stone, feeling the molecules in his hand shift and grow lighter. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on, come on, come on…”  
  
Nothing. His hand doesn’t pass through it.  
  
“Come _ on!” _ Wally’s nose is streaming blood now and he’s so lightheaded his vision mists. Rage surges through him and, with a yell, he picks up the rock and throws it against a tree, the crack echoing through the jungle.  
  
“Damn it!” He slams his head back against the ground once, twice, until spots burst behind his eyelids. His lips taste like rust where the blood dribbles over them, and frustrated tears well at the corners of his eyes. His scalp pulses with the fresh bruise.  
  
He’s so fucked. He’s going to die out here, all because he can’t get his _ fucking _ powers to work.  
  
He wants Barry. Uncle Barry’s a _ real _ superhero. If he were here, he’d tell Wally it’s going to be okay and he’d figure something out. All Wally can do is lie here and endure his body’s cries of pain, wallowing in self-pity instead of sucking it up and _ doing _ something.  
  
Barry wouldn’t wallow. The Flash would find a way, no matter what it takes. He wouldn’t give up—he’d keep fighting until he can’t anymore. He’d fight with every last breath.  
  
Clenching his teeth until they hurt, Wally pushes himself up on his elbows. He takes a deep breath. “You can do this,” he whispers. He closes his eyes. “I can do this.” He zeroes in on every part of his body: every tendon, every nerve, even his squished cherry of a leg. 

And, in one last-ditch effort, he tries again. He vibrates all of the muscles in his body until each and every molecule is in motion. The vibrations jostle his broken leg and white hot pain seizes through his spine, but he bites back a groan and refuses to slow down. Don’t stop now. Keep going.  
  
Before he knows it, the weight on top of him grows lighter and lighter, but he refuses to get distracted. Sweat beads on Wally’s forehead. He’s draining fast and knows he’s going to have to do something soon before he loses his momentum completely.  
  
With one last leap of faith Wally throws himself to the side, screaming as the crushed bones in his leg move and knock against each other.  
  
He collapses back against the ground, trying to breathe through the agony coursing through his leg. Then he opens his eyes, looks at the pillar now lying next to him instead of on top, and chokes on his breath when he realizes what just happened.  
  
It worked. He phased. He _ phased. _  
  
Relief crashes down and Wally finds himself laughing, half-hysterical. He did it. He really did it.  
  
Then he makes the mistake of looking down and swallows back bile, shutting his eyes again. Nope, nope, nope. _ Big _ nope. At least the bleeding has stopped.

Wally’s wince only grows when he realizes his leg is going to need to be re-broken once the team returns to the cave. Speedster drawback? No painkillers. That’s going to hurt like a _bitch_.

Nervousness coils in his stomach just thinking about it. So, rather than terrify himself with the pain to come, Wally distracts himself by planning. 

At this rate it should take no more than half an hour for him to be able to walk on it, and then he can go find his friends, and he’ll finally be free to take a much-needed breather.   
  
Wally settles in for the wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
